


Restoration from Abandon

by ashestocrows



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, M/M, Naga, Past Torture, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Romance, Shota, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashestocrows/pseuds/ashestocrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sinbad is a fresh King, and wishes to build further upon the Seven Seas Alliance. He creates a treaty with the Naga Clan of Thobaan, and in return is gifted with their greatest assassin, a young boy named Ja'far. But Sinbad doesn't know of the boy's past, and could never fortell how close the two begin to grow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restoration from Abandon

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't let the tags scare you off OTL I promise this is going to be more than just torture and death!! Actually, let's just leave it at no death. I don't like death. So no death. OK? OK. I really hope you enjoy this work, I'm putting a lot of effort into it! Sinjar is my OTP is this is my first big fic for them! Wish me luck, and let me know how I'm doing!

The weather in Thobaan was blistering, even in comparison to the island getaway that Sindria was. Sinbad had already removed the heavier layers of his clothing, sacrificing his ornate appearance for the light robes that at least wouldn't draw all the heat to him. Beside him stood only Sharrkan, not much protection needed for the King of Sindria when he was simply coming to make a peace treaty.

Thobaan was mostly a desert land, and very few people or creatures inhabited it. Only the Naga were content to lay around in its heat, keeping their cold-blooded bodies warm and harsh predators away. Sinbad hadn't even heard of them until Drakon mentioned Thobaan in a self-deprecating joke about his lizard-esque appearance. Sinbad immediately jumped on the opportunity, knowing from legend that the Nagas held an old magic that would come in handy to any allies. Especially given that Sinbad only had one sorceress in his court, and she was still a child. Obtaining a treaty with such renowned creatures as the Nagas was in Sinbad's greater interest.

Sharrkan groaned, swaying on his feet.

“I wanna go home,” he whined, drawing out his words like a child. Sinbad shouldn't be surprised, though. Sharrkan was only a few years younger than him, but he hadn't quite matured yet. Sinbad was surprised that he even allowed the Heliohapt boy to weild a sword, especially in Yamuraiha's presence. If he got the chance, he would probably slice the golden shells right off her ears and then laugh until his sides burned.

“This treaty is important,” Sinbad said, beginning to wither in the heat. “We must have patience if we don't wish to offend them.”

The white-haired boy scoffed. “How offended can a couple of snakes get?”

“I don't really think you want to know the answer to that.”

The two boys turned, finding themselves face-to-face with the Cheif of the Naga Clan.

None of the Nagas looked exactly royal, given that they used only the most natural materials for their clothing and jewelry, but Sinbad could tell easily that the man – or was he more of a creature? – before him was the closest thing to royalty in the Clan. He bore a headdress that consisted of feathers fading from white to brown, the band over his forehead a simple red-dyed cloth. Beads hung heavily down his chest, only a few bits of metal among the wood. Though he wore no shirt, it seemed an intelligent choice in the heat, and below his navel the skin vanished into a thick brown and cream tail. It reminded Sinbad strongly of the rattlesnakes he would find in his home country. From the small gasp Sharrkan emitted, he assumed the Cheif had the rattle on the end of his tail to match.

“Welcome, Lord Sinbad,” the Cheif said with a deep bow that Sinbad quickly returned, grabbing Sharrkan's head and yanking him down with him. “It's a pleasure to welcome you into our village.”

It was obvious they were only addressing Sinbad, and he rose from the bow, giving his accomplice a subtle elbow to the gut that ended up being not-so-subtle thanks to the boy's heavy reaction to the blow.

“I apologize for my friend. He is young and has not yet learned respect for his elders.” Sinbad gave a smile, though anyone nearby could tell it was forced.

The Cheif gave a small shake of his head, smiling sincerely back. “It's fine. I've dealt with more troublesome children.” He reached out and ruffled Sharrkan's hair as though he was a mere toddler, making the boy squirm and frown, but he didn't dare to make any more comments for fear of further humiliation. It made Sinbad give a small smirk.

The three slowly made their way into the large tent at the center of the village, making small conversation as they left behind the small tepees and rolling dunes that comprised the whole of the Naga Clan. For several minutes they stayed that way, chatting without any real purpose as they settled around a fire pit ringed by pale rocks, the edges of the tent clouded in shadow. Several makeshift stools were set around, obviously made just for Sinbad's arrival of rough wood and animal skins. Deciding he didn't want to offend the Nagas, he took a seat and looked across at the Cheif.

Just before he could get into the real conversation, the heavy drape of the tent entrance opened and in came a slender-looking Naga woman, her tail thin and much more beautiful than the Cheif's. Sinbad supposed this must be the Shaman, her chest draped with animal teeth and bones. The same brown-and-white feathers hung off her in a headdress, but they were much shorter and cleaner. She slithered over beside the Cheif, taking her seat a bit akwardly on the stool. It was obvious that the Naga were more comfortable to just curl their tails beneath them and rest on the bare ground. Despite this, Sinbad decided against suggesting they all just discard their stools. The Shaman was trying far too hard to look comfortable, and in a strange way he found it amusing.

“Shall we, then?” The Cheif spread his arms in a welcoming way, looking at Sinbad.

The treaty was simple enough. Sinbad would offer the Clan full protection from the Seven Seas Alliance. This reduced any chance of war against the Clan or Sindria, given that both alone were already powerful forces – the Nagas mostly thanks to their magic and their acute ability to avoid all humanity – and in return, the Nagas would hand over their finest assassin.

A trade was not originally in Sinbad's plans. He had only wished to have peace between their lands, but the Cheif had insisted upon some sort of offering. Given that Sinbad wasn't keen on slavery and taking away a human's rights and dignity, he had adamantly refused a concubine. Instead, they settled that their greatest assassin would do just fine. He only agreed to it because he could easily treat an assassin as a fellow fighter, giving them equality in a sense rather than having to see a young woman bow and grovel at his feet just for a single night in bed.

The papers were already tucked into Sharrkan's pack, and after a quick recap of their agreement, both parties signed their name with a thick peacock quill – one of Sinbad's favored utensils for treaty-signing.

And just like that, the papers were tucked away once more and all four rose from their squeaking stools, Sharrkans toppling over. He made a huge fuss out of apologizing and getting it back upright, making the other three laugh heartily. Upon seeing his friend's embarassed blush, Sinbad slung an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close, smiling widely.

“Shall we bring the assassin to you now?” the Shaman inquired. She had been fidgeting the entire time, and Sinbad couldn't decide if it was from the stool or her obvious disdain from having to treaty with such petty humans. Sinbad knew she was one of the types. Many creatures believed they were higher than humans, and Naga were particularly accustomed to such feelings. Given that the Shaman was an expert on her kind, and led the religion, she most likely believed that Naga were beings far higher than any other creature on this planet.

“If you're still insisting upon it,” Sinbad suspired, “I suppose I'll see him now.”

The Shaman slithered back outside, her tail flicking at the end and scattering sand over Sinbad's feet. It was only a moment before she was back, a small being trailing behind her. To the young King's surprise, he found that the figure walked on two legs, a ragged cloak hanging from his shoulders to his knees, and pale bandages wrapping the lower half of his face. The boy couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen by his size, but his grey eyes were dull in a way that made Sin think he had seen and experienced things that no child should even know about.

“Is this him?” Sharrkan scoffed, obviously thinking they must be playing some prank by bringing in a child. But his smirk quickly faded when a blade whizzed past his ear, ripping off his clip-on earring and pinning it to the wooden beam that supported the tent. “I suppose it is,” he muttered, his tan face gone pale.

Sinbad stared in awe at the child, his arm still extended from throwing the blade. A thick red wire trailed from the blade to his arm, and seemed to wrap all the way up to his elbow, though the cloak quickly fell over his arm as he yanked the blade back, all signs of the weapon vanishing underneath the soiled linen.

“Will he do?” The Shaman looked down at Sinbad haughtily, seeming proud of the assassin for surprising them so successfully. She didn't even scold him for denting Sharrkan's earring past repair.

“He'll do,” Sinbad said with a smile, stepping forward and extending his hand to the small boy. It was obvious that he was reluctant, but finally he raised a thin hand to shake him back. It was a surprise to see how pale the boy was, as though he had never seen a ray of sunshine in his life, though from the white of his hair it simultaneously looked like he had gotten a little too much. It was also new to Sinbad to find that there was a spattering of freckles beneath the boy's eyes, disappearing down below the bandages.

Turning back to the Shaman, Sinbad asked, “What's his name?”

She gave a small sigh, as though wishing she didn't know. “His name is Rallef. Ja'far Rallef.”


End file.
